


Autonomy

by aerophin



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, daddy & daughter feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 01:59:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5609581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerophin/pseuds/aerophin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's all too uncanny how history repeats itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Autonomy

**Author's Note:**

> Began writing this following last year's E3 when Dishonored 2 was announced, but only finished it today. Not how I imagine the game will actually happen, but I had to write something to deal with the hype and my excitement.

Three days after the assassination, the rusted door will be pushed open, and Emily will look up from her fervent pacing far from the windows. Her three guards—the last of her elite security squad, who pushed her out of Dunwall Tower in the glowing blue of the moonlight and ferried her across the river to the safe house—will snap their weary heads to attention and tighten their grips on their pistols.

Corvo will slip into the room, agile even in old age but slow in his exhaustion, and whisper commands to her guards. Emily will stand in impatient indignation but will not approach. Afterwards, when Corvo says his piece and the guards nod in understanding, he will turn to her, and she will see the evidence of the years upon his face.

“Corvo,” she will say sternly but not without affection, “what have you discovered?”

He will pause for a moment, if only to prepare himself, and reply, “They say you committed the crime.”

“What?!” will be her feverish response.

“Rumors of jealousy, of uncertainty in your position, the need for structure and stability—”

“Surely there are better ways to dispose of a political opponent than—than assassination!” she will sputter.

He will be silent in his agreement, but the glance between them is enough. Emily will turn away with a frustrated sigh and rub at her furrowed brow.

“Who would do this?” she will ask quietly, eyes roving over the peeling wallpaper of the room, where mold blossoms over the uncovered walls. The air will reek of musty decay. In the corner of the room, a crude drawing of a whaler spearing a bleeding beast will hold her attention as she awaits an answer she already knows.

“The Duke,” Corvo will say in finality. When she will not respond, he will plead, “You should rest, your majesty.”

“ _You_ should rest,” she will reply firmly before approaching him and placing a hand on his weathered cheek. “My Lord Protector, you have not slept in the three days since the attack.”

“I will sleep when you are returned to your throne,” he will answer in a grave voice. At the worry in her eyes, he will place a hand over the small one curled on his cheek.

“Then I will sleep when you sleep.”

“Your majesty—“

“ _I_ will sleep when you sleep,” she will insist.

Corvo will not respond, and Emily will know the discussion is over. She will take the only clean mattress in the house despite her protests, and Corvo will slump against the worn wall no more than four feet away, sword and pistol close at hand.

In the night, Emily will wake to the sound of emptiness and a world of chaos. Despair will whisper in her ear, and an impartial god will brand her for life. When she returns to her world, her heart will continue to beat ferociously, and she will begin to understand the similar scar on her protector’s hand.

Corvo will not rouse when Emily goes to take his folding blade. Despite his slow, quietly rumbling breaths, she will know her protector is awake, and will press a quick, chaste kiss on his cheek as an apology. There, in the rolling moonlight of the safe house, the banished Empress will raise her marked hand, and shadowy tendrils will pull her toward the open window.

Emily will throw one last glance at her father before disappearing, and Corvo, having heard the whispers of the void and felt the darkness running through his blood, will let her go.

**Author's Note:**

> DISHONORED 2 DISHONORED 2 DISHONORED 2 DISHONORED 2 DISHONORED 2 DISHONORED 2 DISHONORED 2 DISHONORED 2 DISHONORED 2 DISHONORED 2 DISHONORED 2 DISHONORED 2 DISHONORED 2 DISHONORED 2 DISHONORED 2 DISHONORED 2 DISHONORED 2 DISHONORED 2 DISHONORED 2 DISHONORED 2 DISHONORED 2


End file.
